An Unlikely Tale
by Dawn Foxcraft
Summary: A novelization of Oblivion with a few twists and turns to the plot planned in the works like a younger, loveinteresty Martin! Gasp. T for language, future violence, and very tame romantic interludes later on. On long hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Cania, and have no possible hope of ever even attempting to compete with Bethesda Softworks for any sort of ownership rights. How thrilling for me, huh? First fanfic ever; let's keep our fingers crossed, eh? _

**CHAPTER 1: Rude Awakenings**

Darkness loomed over the Imperial Prison like an eternal shroud, even as the few smoldering torches that the guards had been kind enough to hang within struggled to lift its iron grasp. However, the prisoners all knew that those torches were no kindness-- compassion was not exactly a thing found in abundance in the Imperial Prison-- they merely served to aid the Imperial jailors as they wandered through the dank and dirty corridors in order to keep tabs on the few prisoners kept locked away within. Now, the Prison largely went unused-- times were better, and most lawbreakers could afford to simply pay their fines and move on with their lives... Or were strong enough to resist arrest and live on the lam for however long they needed to. However, two wretched figures inhabited nearby cells, one of them a Dark Elf who seemed rather bored with his usual squalor, and the other an Imperial female collapsed on the dingy floor of her cell, entirely unconscious.

It had been a few days since they had brought her in, the Dunmer mused idly-- he wondered if she was simply going to rot away in that comatose state in his own personal hell. He hoped not. That would ruin all of his fun. As he continued mulling over his thoughts whilst readjusting himself on the cold stone floor, his sensitive ears detected a slight moan and the rustling of clothes. It would seem that the new girl was waking up. He grinned from ear to ear, his red eyes nearly glowing with their own wretched light.

The girl slowly lifted herself off the floor, and promptly retched due to the dizziness she felt at the sudden altitude change. Her usually radiant, reddish-blond hair was now greasy and clung to her face, and the sight of it seemed to confuse her for a moment until she realized that it was, indeed, hers. Once her stomach came back to her, her hazel-green eyes slowly made a circuit around the disgusting little cell that she found herself in-- one that she never remembered coming to in the first place. _Where the hell am I?_ She wondered, slowly shifting into a sitting position in order to get a better view of the place.

It was damp, cold, and filthy-- she noticed, with horror, what seemed to be the remains of a gnawed human skeleton in one corner. An involuntary shudder racked her body, and she raised her eyes miserably to the tiny, barred window above her. It was still daylight, but it did nothing to lift that horrible, suffocating darkness that threatened to overwhelm her. Suddenly, she realized that she was not alone.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't an Imperial in an Imperial prison! Oh, the harsh irony of it all... I guess they don't play favorites, hm," the cruel, obviously Elven voice mocked. She strained her eyes through the darkness to try and catch a glimpse of the man speaking to her, and started when she saw a pair of red eyes staring back at her. She began to stand, then, wanting to learn from the Dunmer where exactly she was trapped... and why. However, when he saw her move, his eyes lit up with a sadistic glee. "It moves! Ha, your own kinsman think you are a piece of trash... how sad. But don't you worry, Imperial... I'll bet you receive some "special" treatment before the end!"

Her eyes sparked with confusion. The end? Of what? Was she being released today? Or... The Dark Elf could see the gears running in her little blond head-- must have been the only Imperial in the world who was blond. And acted like it, too. He rolled his eyes.

"You're going to _die_ in here, Imperial!"

"What?" She croaked, her dry throat immediately responding by sending a harsh wave of anguish through her, causing her to cough rather violently for a moment.

"That's right! You're going to die in this little hell hole! Oh, don't look so scandalized," he chided, leaning against the wall with a vicious smirk plastered on his gaunt, grimy blue face. "Criminal scum like you are an embarrassment! Give the Empire a bad name, you see-- it would be much better if you just... disappeared," he explained with a wave of his hand and a slight widening of his almond-shaped eyes. The way he moved made him seem like a cheap party magician and, at this, he chuckled in a manic, high pitched tone as he watched her back off a few steps with a look of harsh defiance in her eyes. His taunting had caused something to snap within her, and she found herself struggling to restrain herself from doing something she'd regret. Unfortunately, her resolve to ignore him didn't last long as he made a rather snide remark about her mother and about how she was soon to meet her death in a rather gruesome and colorfully explained manner.

"Not before you do, you bastard," she hissed, her stance suddenly taking on the rigid form of a battle-hardened warrior rather than that of a frightened young girl who could be no more than twenty-two years old. His eyes lit up with surprise, and, for a moment, fear, as she reached for a pewter fork that they had left on a small rotting table in her cell. Suddenly, both of them froze as the sound of clanking armor and metallic footsteps reached their ears. The Dunmer laughed with a maniacal, demented sort of joy and, she thought, relief.

"Oh, look! The guards are coming! For you!" He continued to laugh as his skulked back into the darkness of his little corner, though she could still see those horrible red eyes staring back at her with a morbid interest. She scurried to put the fork back where she had found it, but was stopped in her tracks as she made out the voices coming near her.

"Baurus! Lock that door behind us!" A female voice, though not at all feminine... perhaps she was the commander of the guards?

"Yes, sir," she heard a deep, rich male voice reply obediently. _Redguard_, she thought.

"My sons... They're dead, aren't they?" An older voice rang out through the corridors, and she craned her head to try and see who it was that was talking. He seemed so despairing... even from the few words she had heard the old man say, she knew that he had lost all hope.

"We don't know that, sire-- the messenger only said they were attacked," the grating female voice reassured with its crisp, irritating accent.

"No, they're dead. I know it."

"My job right now is to get you to safety."

Suddenly, they all came into view; the female was in the lead, dressed in full battle gear, followed by two similarly-dressed male Redguards. And behind them, in perhaps the most gorgeous robes she had ever seen, was the old man. _He looks familiar... I wonder if I've met him before?_ She wondered, struggling to see his eyes in the darkness. She was jerked out of her reverie when the female voice shouted, "What is this prisoner doing here! This cell is supposed to be off-limits!" She then whipped around to face one of the men furiously, blue eyes flashing dangerously, daring him to offer some sort of excuse. And offer he did.

"Usual mix-up with the Watch, I--"

"Never mind; get that gate open," she snapped, whirling around once more and pointing directly at the young prisoner. "You! Stand back, prisoner! We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way," she growled.

"You, prisoner-- stand aside! Move it! Over by the window," the slightly kinder-looking of the two men instructed, keeping a wary eye on her. She winced at the command, desperately wanting to ignore them, but finally deciding against that course for now. With her hands raised and fork dropped, she proceeded to scoot the remaining foot that separated her from the wall containing the near-useless window. The Redguard nodded. "Stay out of the way, and you won't get hurt."

Promptly after that, he produced a key from somewhere on his person and unlocked the offending cell door. She heard the other Redguard returning from somewhere and making the comment that no one had attempted to pursue them. _Just what, exactly, is going on here? These aren't prison guards, that much is for damn sure..._ she pondered, her eyes scanning each person as they entered the room and judging their potential threat to her person. She made a move to approach the old man once he entered the tiny cage, but was soon stopped by the first man. "Stay put prisoner," he commanded, gently pushing her back into her former position. She sighed, frustrated.

"You...? I've seen you," she heard the old man proclaim in the background. _Well, of course you've seen them, old timer. They've probably been with you awhile._ She thought, rolling her eyes. However, she lifted her head slightly and saw him standing right before her. "Let me see your face," he bade her, gently reaching out to lift her chin ever so slightly. She recoiled at the touch, doing her best to resist the urge to slap him. He gave her a tired, patient smile in return. "You are the one from my dreams," he murmured, eyes suddenly filling with what she suspected may have been awe. "Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength," he finished, closing his grey-blue eyes and tilting his head back slightly toward the heavens. She simply blinked at him. _I was in his dreams? That's... a bit creepy, I must admit._ She shook it off with a bit of effort, curiosity taking over.

"What, pray tell, is going on here, exactly?" She interrogated, arching one eyebrow imperiously as she sized up the man before her. All the guards seemed to tense with a sudden desire to harm her physically, but she ignored them. The old man offered her yet another patient, grandfatherly sort of smile.

"Assassins have attacked my sons, and I'm next," he stated almost cheerfully. She blinked, dumbfounded. "My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, that entrance to that escape route happens to lead through your cell," he calmly explained, his kindly eyes resting on hers with a casual ease that almost unnerved her. She folded her deceptively thin arms across her chest and furrowed her aquiline brow slightly in thought. _Blades... Blades... I've heard of that before... aren't they...?_ Her brain suddenly froze in shock. She took a step back and stared at the man in front of her wild-eyed.

"Who _are_ you?" She blurted, fearing the worst. The old man chuckled and shook his head.

"I have that effect on many people, it would seem. I assume that you guessed correctly; I am your Emperor, Uriel Septim--" at this, she gasped, feeling almost as if she would faint, "and by the grace of the Gods, I have been chosen to serve Tamriel as her ruler. You are a citizen of Tamriel, even though you are currently housed in one of her less attractive prisons, and you, too, will serve her in your own way." With a mixture of awe and that horrible feeling of an oncoming illness, she willed her body to sweep down low in a bow whilst attempting to prevent herself from collapsing right there on the spot. She had just offended the _Emperor_. _No wonder he'd looked familiar_, she chided. If her situation wasn't bad now, it sure as hell was going to be once he passed his sentence on her rudeness. However, rather than that horrible booming voice that she had always imagined coming from an emperor, she heard soft laughter and the same kind, gentle tone that he'd been using.

"Now, now, no need for that, young one," he chuckled, bidding her to resume her normal manner.

"F-forgive me, your highness. Um, well, while you're here... Could you possibly tell me what exactly I'm doing locked away in this jail cell?" She questioned once her brain stopped spinning. Once more, Emperor Uriel Septim offered her his kindly smile.

"Perhaps the Gods have placed you here so that we may meet," he half-jested quietly, and then resumed his serious tone. "As for what you have done, it does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for." The comment about the Gods had made her bristle-- she had never really been much of a believer, to tell the truth. The Gods had never seemed interested in her before, and she'd be damned before she'd let them run her life now.

"I go my own way," she declared, struggling to keep her voice cool and even. The Emperor seemed to notice her discomfort, and gently waved a hand to prevent his Blades from exacting punishment for disrespecting the Emperor with such harsh words.

"As do we all," he said quietly, his soft eyes locked onto hers. "But what path can be avoided whose end is fixed by the almighty Gods?" He asked deliberately, his eyes not leaving hers for a moment. She knew that it was a challenge.

Before anything could get out of control, the female leader of the Blades in company stepped between the two of them. "Please, sire, we must keep moving," she pleaded, bowing ever so slightly to him. He hesitated a moment, and then finally nodded, allowing her to move forward and access the secret door hidden in the walls. With a simple touch on one of the bricks, the wall began to rumble and slowly open with a harsh grate. _Well, that would have been nice to have known about for the ten minutes that I was conscious before they arrived,_ she thought as she watched the door slide open on stone hinges. Finally, with a resounding thud that echoed deep into the bowels of the prison, the door came to a halt. The Blade poked her head through the door and her body soon followed it with the languid grace of a predatory feline. "Better not close this one," she commented idly as she began her progress through the newly-exposed tunnels. "There's no way to open it from the other side."

"Looks like this is your lucky day," the kinder of the two Redguards joked as he passed her on his way into the passage. "Just keep quiet and stay out of our way." With that he was gone, disappeared around the cavernous bend before her. As she peered into the even deeper shadows of the caverns, the other one shoved her harshly back against the wall. She snarled, facing him with carefully constrained contempt.

"Don't even think about it, prisoner. I'm watching you," he growled, pushing his massive frame through the doorway. She grunted in frustration.

"My name is _Cania_! Not Prisoner," she shouted after him.

"I wasn't aware that prisoners had names," he responded in his gruff baritone.

She marched into the caverns in a slight huff, though she allowed just one moment to bestow one last smug, triumphant smirk upon the bewildered Dark Elf still hopelessly trapped in the cell across from hers before she vanished into the darkness. Things were starting to look up.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I, again, own nothing except Cania-- and she eats far too much of my brain cells for my liking. Just like .MP3 files on the proverbial hard-drive of life._

_A/N: Not exceptionally pleased with this chapter; these expository passages with only minor plot details are always a chore, aren't they? It'll get better once we get out of the prison, I promise. The prison is just so bloody boring! Anyway, thanks to all who have been reading, particularly those of you who felt it worthy enough to review! Glad to see my crazy little ideas have been of interest to someone other than myself! _

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**Chapter 2:**

Yes, things do always appear to be looking up after any sort of respite from such a dire situation, and Cania was rather excited about the fact that she would be out of this prison very soon with her own personal little entourage of bodyguards. _All right, so maybe they're only out to protect the Emperor, but so long as I stick nearby, they have to protect me by default!_ It was a wonderful little loophole that she planned to exploit for as long as humanly possible. Unfortunately, her smug satisfaction with her now half-baked "escape" plan would soon come crashing to pieces as she heard the call for alarm rise between the three Blades.

"Close up left-- protect the Emperor," the female captain shouted, drawing her blade and leaping headlong at... something. Cania wasn't quite able to make it out due to the darkness, but she did manage to catch the fact that whatever it was that the captain had just attacked meant trouble for her. She briefly considered running in and helping, but with her horrible lack of anything to defend herself with and her ignorance of hand-to-hand combat, she simply decided to go and stand near the Emperor whilst the two fully-armed Redguards joined their captain in the growing fray.

Finally, she was able to see the form of one of the attackers, and her eyes widened in shock. Their armor was completely different from anything she had ever seen in her journeys of Tamriel; their helmet-masks were formed to look like sadistic, grinning faces with eye-holes cut so deep it was impossible to see the actual eyes of the wearers within. She felt herself cringe involuntarily when she saw one of them coming full-speed at the Emperor in front of her, and promptly closed her eyes and leaped in front of him, bracing for the impact which never came. The unsettling sound of steel cutting flesh and shattering bone reached her ears, and she opened her eyes to see the Captain crumpled before her.

"The Captain's down!" One of the Redguards had bellowed the grave statement and plunged his own blade through the chest of the demonic killer standing before her, and she watched with a mixture of shock and confusion as the armor warbled and then finally disappeared altogether, leaving only a seemingly normal man dressed in crimson robes and cowl. The Redguard met her eyes fleetingly, and then rushed back in to defend his remaining comrade who was under assault by two or three others of the strangers. _Who the hell are these people?_ She found herself wondering, attempting to keep herself from falling over the ledge she was standing on so precariously. Suddenly, she found a steadying hand upon her shoulder and turned to find the Emperor looking upon her with sorrowful and yet, somehow grateful eyes.

"Protect yourself," he murmured only loud enough for her to hear. "Do not concern yourself for my sake."

She must have seemed rather confused at that moment, for he only offered her a small, sorrowful smile that seemed to imply that he didn't feel like explaining himself at the moment. She shrugged off the ominous feeling she got from his words with some effort, giving him a brief nod as she turned and moved further into the shadows, seeking a weapon of some sort to defend herself with. Finally, the sound of the battle died down, and she turned from her inspection of one of the assassin's bodies to see the kinder of the two men addressing the Emperor.

"Are... Are you all right, sire? We're clear for now," he stated formally, his body stiff and rigid as was its wont when addressing his commander. However, she could tell that the man before her was entirely unnerved by what had just happened, for his dark eyes contained a rather haunted look. The Emperor made no move to address the man's concern for him.

"Captain Renault?"

There was a pause. Slowly, the Redguard allowed his helmeted head to drop slightly as he made the annunciation of the captain's death.

"She's dead," he stated simply in his cool, deep voice, allowing just a moment for them both to come to terms with the fact. Finally, he raised his head once more to look the Emperor directly in the eyes. "I'm sorry, sire, but we must keep moving." The Emperor gave a slight nod, and the two of them went to join their other comrade, who was doing much as Cania had just moments ago; though he was assessing the bodies for a very different reason. He shook his head and gave a frustrated sigh as he rose from his work, turning to face the others.

"How could they be waiting for us here?" He questioned his companions. A tinge of desperation filled his voice, and she decided that neither of the two had been prepared for any of this. The Blades, it seemed, were not quite so invincible as they once had thought. She smirked somewhat cruelly at that thought, and then busied herself once more with taking anything of any possible value that the assassins had on them. She had a feeling that things were only going to get worse from here on out, particularly if more of the assassins happened to be lying in wait for them.

"Don't know," the other of the Blades admitted, now resigned to the idea that it was quite possible that none of them would escape alive. "But it's too late to go back now." Noticing that the Emperor had perhaps been thinking along the same lines as he had, his face instantly took on a guilty cast. "Don't worry, sire," he amended quickly. "We _will_ get you out of here." He seemed to be talking as much for his own benefit as for the Emperor's.

"They won't be the first to underestimate the Blades! I'll take point," the larger and meaner of the two added-- assuming the captain's role, she noticed with some chagrin. "Let's move."

Cania sighed and dusted herself off, preparing to get in line like any other member of the guarding body. However, one of the men stopped her gently with a heavy hand before she could move through the door that they had just opened. "Stay here prisoner," he commanded, his eyes stern and yet, at the same time, slightly regretful. "Don't try to follow us." And, with that, he took off deeper into the shadows, leaving her stranded in the middle of some subterranean tunnel under the Imperial Prison with no idea what to do next. She threw her hands in the air, defeated, and wandered back over to where she had been during the battle.

She sat on the edge of her prior perch with an air of utter hopelessness, gazing around the partially lit room for some sign of what to do next. Corpses littered the floor, and their blood had mingled in order to form one of the most gruesome carpets imaginable as it began to coagulate in the dank, dreary dungeon. However, most of the subterranean passage seemed to be in pretty good shape, she noticed with some surprise. Aside from a few stray bits of rubble here and there and the odd rusty-hinged and somewhat rotting wooden doors, the place was entirely manageable; of course, this didn't help her in the least, as the Blades had gone through the only door in the room and had locked it behind them. "Great escape, huh? Good one, Cania," she muttered crossly as she leaned against the partially cracked pillar behind her. If anything, the room seemed to have gotten darker since the Blades had left, and all of the death around her was starting to give her chills. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and attempted to ignore her rather bleak situation in order to better formulate another plan, but found that she simply couldn't look away from the sight before her for long.

Her eyes had fallen upon the mangled form of the captain, mouth still agape in shock and pain even in death. She cringed, forcing herself to stand even though she couldn't tear her eyes away. For some reason, she was both appalled and fascinated by the sight of the captain's painfully contorted body on the floor, the blood blossoming out from under her like rich, red wine. The stale air in the prison reeked with the coppery smell of blood and even the first few traces of flesh beginning to rot, and yet she was able to somehow ignore those scents, entranced instead by way the shadows danced across the lifeless shell before her. _I have _got_ to get out of here,_ she thought, shaking her head rapidly to clear the myriad of morbid thoughts running through her mind. _This place is making me go crazy._

She ambled back over to the locked door somewhat aimlessly, checking its strength to decide whether or not she should try to simply beat it down, when suddenly she began to hear a faint squeaking noise coming from a less-intact bit of wall to her right. Curiosity taking hold, she took a few cautious steps closer to the offending spot with her head cocked slightly to one side. The squeaking suddenly became much louder, and she could have sworn she saw something darting past one of the larger cracks in the wall. She jumped back slightly, tripping over Captain Renault's blade in the process, and she swiftly grabbed it just as the wall before her collapsed. Two of the most enormous rats she had ever seen in her life bounded through the opening, drawn by the scent of blood, and she just barely managed to contain her girlish instinct to squeal in terror.

The disgusting things hissed at her, obviously upset by the presence of another human who was, unfortunately for them, still alive, and then quickly entered into attack mode. Cania scrambled to her feet, allowing some of her old, now-distant training to keep her somewhat calm as she held the blade out in front of herself somewhat awkwardly. One of the rats lunged directly at her, its sharp teeth aiming for her throat, and with one instinctive slice she managed to cut the thing in half before it could cause her any harm. Surprised at her luck, she let a wild grin cross her face as she took the initiative to attack the second one, which had now been made wary by the death of its companion. It squeaked loudly in alarm as she brought the beautifully crafted Akaviri blade down between its shoulders, ending its life with a single stroke just as before. The battle ended, she took a moment to process the information that she had, indeed, managed to kill both of the hideous little beasts, and then promptly did an awkward little hopping victory dance, ending it all with an echoing whoop of joy.

Now overly-confident in her battle abilities and pumped up from the supposed rush of heavy combat, she let out an appreciative sigh as she examined the lovely passageway that the rats had exposed for her. She felt as if she could have taken on the world at that moment, stepping through the rather large opening in the wall with her stolen weapon and examining the even darker and, if it were even possible, dirtier chamber that she found herself in. However, as she continued walking, her head held arrogantly high, she managed to trip over a large rock that found itself in her way and she landed face-first in the lap of a leather-clad skeleton. She did the only thing she could have done in that situation: she let out an ear-splitting, echoing scream and desperately tried to disengage herself from its clinging, dusty limbs. After a few moments of wild, frantic struggling, she'd managed to right herself and was attempting to collect herself when she was suddenly faced with yet another gigantic rat. Apparently, she had made it rather angry by screaming the way she had, and it leaped at her with a furious little squeal.

Cania fumbled for her weapon for a brief moment until she finally pointed it in a way that made the rat impale itself with its own misguided assault, and then managed to retract it, disgusted by the various fluids she now found it coated with. Slowly, she allowed herself to sink back to the dirt floor and take a few deep breaths in order to get herself together. "That was just... not right. At all," she mumbled to herself with her eyes shut tightly. With one last, unnecessarily large breath, she pulled herself back to her feet and nervously dusted herself off.

"All right, now, let's see what we've got here," she murmured as she bent to examine the skeleton before her with a slight shiver. She noticed the armor first thing; the cuirass was still in serviceable condition, and so were the leather boots. Both would certainly come in handy later, as she had a feeling that the place had many more secrets waiting malevolently for her down its mysterious, ancient corridors. With a small whimper, she began the slow process of forcing the skeleton to give up its armor to her, and then finally shrugged it on over her standard-issue prisoner's outfit.

"Well, it's a bit on the large side, but I suppose we can't have everything," she thought aloud to no one in particular. The boots were rather uncomfortable, and the cuirass had obviously been made for a man, but even this shoddy armor was better than nothing, and, after her rather traumatic experience, she was eager to accept any form of protection she could find. Luckily, she also noticed that the skeleton had a small leather shield attached to one arm as well, and she decided to take it in order to further bolster her defenses. The skeleton's skull drooped slightly when she was finished looting anything else it happened to have around it, and she gave it a pointed look. "It's not like you'll be needing it," she scolded the moping corpse, adjusting the cuirass slightly before she continued on her way. She had ignored the bow and quiver that had been nearby-- archery was definitely _not_ one of her strong points. A vague memory of her nearly killing one of her training partners with a misguided arrow had flitted through her mind upon seeing the equipment, and so she had resolutely decided to avoid it altogether.

Finally feeling somewhat prepared for whatever the darkness before her held, she took her first few tentative steps toward an old wooden door that she saw nearby, repressing some disgust as she fished a key from the rapidly decomposing corpse of a goblin that had been haphazardly slumped upon an enormous rock formation. Door thus opened, she continued through the corridors and promptly dealt with the few other rats that dared to get in her way. As she sat examining one of the old chests that she had come across, however, she heard a distressed squeaking coming from the nearest passageway, and turned her head to find a couple of rats fleeing the scene at a rather astounding pace and ignoring her entirely. Brow furrowed in confusion, she pushed herself to her feet once more and peeked her head around one of the corners, where she saw one of the oddest sights that she had ever seen in her life: a giant rat battling a rotting, slack-jawed, howling-with-rage zombie. Needless to say, the rat didn't stand a chance.

Having killed the offending rat with a resounding, skull-crunching blow, the zombie let out another angry-sounding moan and began to shuffle forward once more. Her eyes widened when she realized that it was headed straight for her. Panicking slightly, she scrambled back into the shadows for a moment, trying to figure out the best plan of attack against an obviously irate member of the undead. She had cleverly hidden herself behind one of the earthen pillars in the corner of the room, and was tapping her fingers nervously on the stretched hide of her borrowed shield as her mind ran through the numerous possibilities that faced her.

Suddenly, a hideously disfigured face jutted around one side of the pillar with a low moan, and a rotting, greenish-blue hand latched onto her shoulder with crushing strength. Her mind raced for a solution to this rather putrid predicament that she had found herself in, and currently she was hacking away at her attacker remorsefully in an attempt to remove its hand from her shield-arm. Suddenly, the zombie let go, but then reared its hand back and smacked her hard across the face with open palm, sending her to the floor as easily as if it had been swatting at an annoying fly. Wracked with pain from having landed at the conjunction of rock wall and dirt floor, her back objecting harshly to raising her blade, she stared at the zombie as it approached her once more in its odd, limping manner. It reared back again, preparing to strike, and she quickly shut her eyes and extended one hand to stop the brute force of the blow, only to hear the zombie howling in agony.

Her eyes snapped open to see the zombie aflame, flailing its arms wildly in an attempt to douse the fire that had engulfed it. She blinked in shock, realizing that _she_ had caused the zombie to be in such a state. For a confused moment, she stared at her hands and then once more attempted to call the flames. To her delight, another fireball emerged obediently from her palm and launched itself at the screeching zombie, proving too much for the new foe. It finally collapsed in a smoldering heap, no longer a threat. Once more, she let out a triumphant cheer from her rather awkward position on the floor of the dark corridor and then struggled to stand, rubbing her sore back with one hand. "Well, that was interesting... Oh, _please_ don't let there be any more of those in these caverns," she begged desperately. One zombie she could handle. Any more than that, and she had a hunch that she would just have to join their ranks.

Pulling herself away from those unpleasant thoughts, she proceeded a little more cautiously through the next few corridors, killing off rats as she went, slicing them neatly with her blade and passing through a room literally filled with bones and assorted rotting foodstuffs. She wondered briefly just how far the caverns went, not to mention how big the Imperial Prison actually was; obviously, it was much bigger inside than its exterior would seem to allow due to the immense underground space that it possessed. As she mulled over these ideas idly whilst wandering somewhat aimlessly through the caverns, she found herself in a room much more brightly lit than the others before that. A campfire burned unattended, and four chains of human skulls hung loosely from the roof of the cavern by thick ropes. She felt a brief sensation of nausea bubbling up within her as she examined the skulls; all of them had been cracked through the crown and the palate in order to make a hole for the ropes to fit through, and each grinned distantly as if they each had some dirty little secret to hide.

Finally, she let out the breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding and forced herself through the wooden door into the next area of the caverns below the prison.

She was really starting to miss the Blades.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Yeah, I own jack squat. It's rather pleasant squat, actually-- goes well with both Colby, Monterrey, and Pepper._

_A/N: Whoo, boy! Long chapter. I swear, this thing was like pulling teeth to write until the last few paragraphs. I got so bored with it that I actually started modding for the game and started about three new sessions all with unique, Dawn-Crafted armor and weapons. Bleargh. Kinda lackluster, I'll admit, but it'll pick up speed soon. Yay. Oh, and those plot twists I promised? They're gonna be a hoot. Not gonna say any more. Heh. Anyway, on with the show._

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**Chapter 3:**

A dull pain throbbed through Cania's head, and she forced herself to sit upright. _What... just happened? Last thing I remember, I was walking through that door with the skull decor and--_ suddenly, she remembered the nasty blow she'd received from a goblin that happened to have been stationed on the other side of that same door. She rubbed the back of her head, the memory making her wound ache even more. Worse, she felt a bit of dried blood flaking off where her hand passed near the base of her skull. A shudder ran down her spine. She had been lucky; had the goblin hit any lower, the blow would have killed her-- certainly not the way that she had intended to die, cold and alone in the depths of the Imperial Prison. Slowly, she lowered herself back into her former position; she didn't know exactly where the other goblins were, but she could hear them moving about and grunting in their odd, high-pitched tones to one another somewhere above her. She couldn't risk being discovered now that she was unarmed.

Nearby, a slightly smaller rat than the ones she had faced previously was scratching itself idly against the posts of the makeshift wooden fence that had been constructed as some sort of pen; presumably for corralling the rats. Now, she realized, it was being used to contain her as well. Cania briefly entertained the idea that she was going to be ripped apart and eaten by half-starved goblins, her skull doomed to join the others on one of those despicable chains of theirs, but she soon shoved that idea from her mind. Death by goblins was not any way for her to go, and she intended to get some payback on them for delaying her escape further.

Sneakily, she raised her head ever so slightly in order to try and see the exact numbers of her enemies. There were at least three above her that she couldn't see, she knew, and one was sitting by a small fire just a few feet away near the gate of the rat pen, roasting one of said rats with some boredom. Unfortunately, any more information than that was slow in coming, and she still had no idea where they had taken her borrowed sword and shield. They had even grabbed one of the nearly useless rusty iron daggers that she had grabbed from a rotting chest up above. Suddenly, she remembered her ability to cast fireballs with what she now understood was the Flare spell, and a furtive smirk crept across her now horribly dirty face.

With great care not to alert the guard before her, she began to creep toward the gate on her belly, keeping close to the shoddily-carved walls of the pit for the shadows that they offered. She wasn't exactly great at sneaking around, having been trained primarily as a light-class warrior, but luck seemed to be on her side since the guard was too distracted by his meal-in-progress to notice her movements. Finally having neared the gate enough to reach through and pull it open, she scooted forward just a little more, eyes focused entirely on the goblin, when she stepped on the tail of one of the rats that she shared the pen with. It let out a dismayed squeak, and the goblin sharply turned its head to see Cania, half-crouched, with the gate slightly ajar and a look of utter horror on her face. The goblin let out a horrid, roaring squeal, alerting all of the others in the vicinity that their prisoner was escaping, and then drew a shoddy old war-ax from its side and rushed at her with the weapon held high above its head.

She leaped to her feet, taking a few steps back in order to avoid the blow, and let out a fireball right into the face of her foe, which promptly fell backward, screeching and clawing at its burning skin. The other goblins had rallied around the top of the pen near a makeshift stairway that had been carved into the walls, and were watching with shock as their clanmate was killed by the second fireball that she launched at it. She quickly hopped over the body, seeing that her blade had been kept on the ground near the fire pit, and grabbed her weapon with relief. The first of the new wave of opponents had jumped hastily down into the pit, and was now warily squaring off with her, leather shield raised protectively in front of its face and iron dagger pointed straight at her throat. They circled each other once, neither daring to make the first move, when suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her back. Another one had barreled down the side of the pit and had slashed her with its own rusty dagger.

Her attentions now divided, the first attacker had gained some measure of courage and had let out a raw-throated battle cry, lunging at her with the dagger outstretched and shield held at the side of its body, leaving its neck exposed. Without thinking, Cania jabbed the Akaviri blade through the creature's exposed flesh, then whirled around to jab the other one through the shoulder as it attempted to strike her again. Wounded, the creature howled in agony, and Cania found that her blade had actually gotten stuck in the bone of the goblin's shoulder. She attempted in vain to remove the blade from the flailing monster, completely aghast at her misfortune and impending doom from one of the other goblins that had come to join the fray. Finally, third goblin at her heels, laughing like the miserable little wretch that it was, Cania managed to dislodge her weapon and tumbled over backward onto the new attacker, cracking its skull against a rather sharp rock that was jutting out from the floor behind her. It had inadvertently broken her fall, only to wind up dead itself. _How ironic,_ she thought with chagrin as she stared at her weapon. To her surprise, it hadn't dislodged at all; she had actually ripped the arm of the goblin off with her tugging-- her blade had been sawing the muscles within during her attempts, and had managed to cut through the entire arm at the end of it all. The severed arm had come off the blade as well as the goblin and was currently lying in a puddle of mixed fluids near her feet, and now the borrowed katana that she wielded was absolutely covered in thick, putrid-smelling blood. The goblin, of course, was dead.

She let out a sigh of relief and slouched against the wall of the pit, wincing as the wound on her back touched the cold stone; she had nearly forgotten about her injury in all of the chaos. She grabbed a potion of healing from her belt-- the one thing that the goblins had been too stupid to take, apparently-- and gulped most of the viscous, bitter liquid down, rubbing the rest on the wound. Unfortunately, she would now have to be doubly careful about getting into combat due to the large rent in her armor that the blow had caused. However, she had managed to survive the attack and both potentially dangerous wounds that the goblins had managed to strike just a little too low or a little too shallow-- that much she could be happy about, at least.

Finally, she forced herself off the wall, deciding that now was as good a time as any to move on-- after making sure the goblins didn't have anything else worthwhile on them, of course. Satisfied with her newly-obtained loot, she began to proceed more cautiously ahead, her weapon still drawn and prepared to strike. Stepping through the door ahead of her, eyes darting around for any potential foe hidden around some corner or another, she found herself in a completely empty room. She blinked for a moment out of confusion, double-checking behind the great support beams that stood as beacons of civilization in the vast underbelly of the prison. An involuntary smile crossed her face. _I must be nearing the exit... It's much brighter in here,_ she thought joyfully. She recklessly sheathed her blade and literally burst through the door opposite her, darting down the next corridor to find a broken wall before her-- and she came to a grinding halt as she realized that it was a rather sheer drop-off.

Cania's eyes widened in shock, one foot dangling precariously over the side as she clung to the rest of the crumbling wall for dear life. Her other foot hadn't managed to grab a decent footing either, and so she could feel it slowly slipping to join the other one. Desperately, she flailed her legs in an attempt to regain the ground, resulting only in more downward progress, until the wall had finally had enough of her efforts and simply collapsed a little more, bringing her down with it. She let out a yelp as she fell, eyes closed tightly, only to hit the ground a moment later. After a terrified moment, she opened one eye only to find the ledge that she had fallen off of a mere yard or so above her head, making the total fall that she had suffered a whopping seven feet. With a slightly embarrassed laugh, she got back on her still-wobbly legs and dusted herself off nervously. The one thing the fall had managed to hurt was her back, which was still rather in pain from the goblin attack, and even that much was only enough to give it a dull throb which was easily ignored.

Having gotten over the initial shock, she cleared her throat and proceeded a little further into the rather large room that she now found herself in, noticing that the design was the same as the main subterranean passages, and was blessedly paved. Her ears pricked up, however, when she heard the sound of voices wafting through the air towards her in small snatches of sound. Curious, she crept closer, still hiding herself behind a wall out of sheer desire for self-preservation, and peered around her ledge in order to get a better look at whoever it was that was doing the talking.

"We should find a defensible spot and protect the Emperor until help arrives," she heard the gruff, unmistakably Redguard voice proclaim-- it would seem that she had managed to find the Blades. As she processed this new information, finally able to see the Emperor standing between them and looking rather anxious, she wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry. They had told her not to follow them; should she make an appearance and trust herself once more to their protection, she feared that they would throw her back in the prison for defying orders or some such rot.

"Help? What makes you think help will arrive before more of those... those bastards?" The other remaining Blade demanded skeptically, waving his shield arm as if to demonstrate the hopelessness of their current situation. "We need to get the Emperor out of here!" That seemed to have been a rather mis-timed phrase, for at that moment, she saw a small group of the assassins descend from similar ledges with their weapons brandished. The resulting melee was an intense flurry of chaos, with the Blades shouting for the Emperor to get to safety as they hacked away at their demonic-looking foes. For a moment, it looked almost as if they were going to be overwhelmed by their opponents, and she decided that now was the time to get involved. Unfortunately, her involvement would require the contribution of another fall, this time a good three times further than her last pathetic drop. With a small groan, she closed her eyes and took a leap of faith, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn't somehow manage to break something in the process.

Miraculously, she landed on her feet and only suffered a small amount of recoil for her daring deed, and she drew her weapon in preparation to strike at the assassins-- only to find the Blades looking at her with rather priceless expressions of surprise. She blinked at them, took a quick survey of the room to find that they had already dispatched their foes without harm to themselves or the Emperor, and sheathed her weapon with a sheepish grin. The meaner-spirited Redguard, whose name she had gleaned from the battle as Glenroy, was the first to recover, drawing his blade in turn. Her eyes widened in terror at this sudden display of aggression.

"Damn it! It's that prisoner again," he growled, slowly advancing upon her with his weapon outstretched. "Kill her, she might be working with the assassins!" At this demand, his partner looked at him as if he were a man possessed, and shook his head slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but was promptly cut off by the dream-like voice of the Emperor ringing out through the room as he made his presence known once again.

"No, she is not one of them," he murmured, raising one hand to halt Glenroy's attack. "She can help us. She _must_ help us." He finished with his deep blue eyes locked on hers, and she realized that his words carried the weight of a death sentence. Her stomach sank at this proclamation, and she found herself suddenly wishing that she had just stayed on the ledge until they'd left. However, the Emperor had managed to mollify the Redguard for now, and he had sheathed his blade.

"As you wish, sire," he muttered, disappointment plain in his voice. The Emperor's lips twitched ever so slightly upward.

"Come closer," the Emperor bade Cania. "I would prefer not to have to shout."

She did as she was told, though she hesitated a moment before complying. Once she had reached a spot that seemed to satisfy the Emperor, he began to speak to her once more. "They cannot understand why I trust you," he said in a low, conspiratorial voice, shifting a brief, sympathetic glance toward his guards. "They have not seen what I have seen." Cania looked at him with utter confusion plastered across her face.

"Er... Excuse me? What exactly have you... seen?" She asked, taking a reflexive step back. The Emperor let out a somewhat frustrated sigh, and then lifted his head toward the ceiling as if looking for help from the gods themselves.

"How can I explain?" He muttered, taking a long moment to speak. She spared a look over at the guards, who seemed very anxious to get on the move again, and wondered for a moment if they had any idea what the old man was talking about. With a mental shrug, she turned her gaze back to the Emperor, who seemed to have finally collected himself. "Listen: you know the Nine? How they guide our fate with an invisible hand?" He asked finally, reserving himself to calling upon the gods yet again. Cania's eyes narrowed, and she could feel herself bristle at the reference. Another challenge.

"I'm not on good terms with the gods," she uttered as politely as she could manage, trying to keep the venom out of her tone. The Emperor shook his head, letting out a tired breath. He locked eyes with her once more, and pressed valiantly onward.

"I have served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens," he began, eyes now afire with his convictions. "The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire, and every one a sign. I know these stars well, and I wonder," he paused here for a moment, briefly looking away from her and then resuming his steadfast stare, "which sign marked your birth?"

The question took her entirely unawares.

"Wh-- What?" She queried, her eyes growing wide with disbelief. "I... don't think I heard you correctly. Could you repeat that?" The Emperor gave her a rather dismayed smirk.

"What is your birth sign?"

"That's what I thought you said," she trailed off, shaking her head. She rubbed at her forehead, mind reeling with the possible reasons that he could be asking for her sign. _Is the old man gone completely insane? What does this have to do with anything?_ She grumbled to herself for a minute before finally gathering herself together to face him once more, after noticing the heavy, suspicious gaze of the Blades that had fallen upon her. "Well, if you really want to know, I was born under the sign of the Serpent," she finally managed. The Emperor arched an imperious eyebrow at that response, and a slight frown crossed his features.

"Truly?" He asked, his voice lowered to barely a whisper. She only nodded with an incredulous look on her face. "I... I see." Here, he paused for a moment, studying her more closely than he had before. Finally, he allowed himself a slight shrug of his regal shoulders. "Well, in any case... if you were wondering about the relevance of such a question, it is because the signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come," he finished, straightening himself up a bit more than usual. She cocked her head to one side at this sudden, rather depressing conclusion that he had drawn.

"Well, what about me?" Cania asked, her eyes full of that familiar glow of curiosity. The Emperor gave her a tired chuckle, shaking his head ever so slightly.

"Your stars are not mine, I'm afraid. Today, the Serpent shall sting the foes that seek your blood," he responded, voice full of that same, mystical quality that it always seemed to hold when speaking of the Nine or, apparently, the stars. She rolled her eyes surreptitiously.

"I mean... Can you see _my_ fate in those stars of yours?" Now she had become a skeptic. This talk of stars foretelling one's entire future was, in her mind, utterly ludicrous. She folded her arms over her chest, watching the Emperor's response to her question closely.

"My dreams grant me no opinions of success, for their compass ventures not beyond the doors of death," he began, once more seeming to avoid her question altogether. "But in your face, I behold the sun's companion. The dawn of Akatosh's bright glory may banish the coming darkness." His eyes had brightened to look almost as if they were glowing in the dark atmosphere of the underground passage at this proclamation, and-- though she knew it was only some trick of the light or perhaps merely his way of speaking-- for a moment, she could have sworn she had seen him grow younger, back to his old days of glory when he ruled as a much younger man, full of even stronger convictions. The moment passed quickly, however, and she found herself rather disconcerted by the whole thing. "With such hope, and with the promise of your aid, my heart must be satisfied," he finished, once more looking as tired and as without hope as he had when she had first met him. However, to her surprise, there was no trace of fear in either his voice or his composure, and this caused her to once more question just how much the Emperor knew of his fate.

"Aren't you afraid to die?" She asked him after a moment, brow furrowed in wonder. He only smiled.

"No trophies of my triumphs have proceeded me, unfortunately; but I have lived well, and my ghost shall rest easy," he replied in a good-natured manner. There was a brief pause as he considered his next words. "Men are but flesh and blood: they know their doom, but not the hour. In this, I am blessed to see the hour of my death: to face my apportioned fate, then fall." She blinked in open awe of his response. He had gone on another of his philosophical bents, which she always found somewhat difficult to follow, as his mind seemed to tend to ramble-- though she could only wish her own ramblings were so deep and thoughtful. There was a long lull in the conversation as she tried to figure out an appropriate follow-up to such insightful talk, but she finally settled herself with the all-important question of: "So... where are we going?"_Oh, very deep._ She sighed mentally, though her lack of conversational depth didn't seem to bother the Emperor much.

"I go to my grave," he began, causing Cania as well as the Blades to do a sort of mental spit-take as well as to exchange startled looks amongst themselves. "A tongue shriller than all the music calls me." _This man is ridiculously depressing. And he's still not exactly answering my questions. Perhaps senility is beginning to set in?_ However, with that thought, he turned to address her directly as if he had heard her own internal monologue. "You shall follow me yet for a while, but then we must part." With that, he waved a royal hand and began to progress along with the Redguard Glenroy down the next path, leaving both Cania and the other Blade staring behind them, utterly dismayed.

The Redguard was the first to recover, and offered her the torch that he had been carrying. "You might as well make yourself useful," he grumbled, still eying her somewhat skeptically. She merely stared blankly at the lighting tool, which seemed to irritate him slightly. "Here, carry this torch," he bade in a rather patronizing tone, literally forcing the torch into her hand, "and stick close." Finally having accepted the burning stick from him, he and Cania proceeded down the corridor after the Emperor, both keeping an eye out for any trouble that their comrades might have missed. After a moment, noticing no immediate danger, Cania decided to make an attempt at conversation with the Blade.

"How's life as a Blade, these days?" She asked, shooting him a somewhat pointed glance. He looked at her briefly, rolled his eyes, and refused to answer. _Okay, then... Tough crowd.__Let's try option number two._ "What exactly do you do as a Blade? Aren't you just like the Legion, albeit you have much more attractive armor?" This seemed to catch his attention, and he turned on her with complete horror.

"We are _not_ simply over-glorified Legionnares," he corrected her rather loudly, shaking an armored finger at her angrily. "We're the Emperor's personal bodyguards! Our job is to get him out of situations like this," he finished, earning a doubting glance and arched eyebrow from Cania. He seemed to cave in slightly at that, and let out a sigh. "Although, I admit, things are not exactly going according to plan." She smirked.

"Oh, so the Blades aren't quite as mighty as they say they are, hm? Subject to failure like all of us lesser mortals?" She taunted, green eyes bright with laughter. He glared at her, but then saw that her jest wasn't made with any real malice intended, and so he allowed himself a very small, fleeting smile.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," he sighed, shaking his head. "Just let us do our job, and we all may yet come out of this alive." She nodded curtly, subduing her impulse to try and bother him further. They managed to catch up with the advance party soon enough, and they all formed a little protective barrier around the Emperor, Cania taking up the left flank whilst Glenroy and the other Redguard, who she now knew was named Baurus, took the front and rear respectively.

A few scattered assassins tried their hand at attacking the Emperor, but were always thwarted by Cania's keen eye and swift action on the part of the Blades. After continuing on as such for a while longer, they managed to arrive in a larger room that seemed far too quiet for her liking. The air was charged with electric tension, and Glenroy seemed to pick up on it. He raised a hand to stop their progress.

"Hold up; I don't like this," he commanded, drawing his blade. "Let me take a look." The others nodded to him, remaining silent, and he proceeded down a narrow stairway to a small elevated platform. Everyone was waiting in anxious anticipation of an attack, but, fortunately enough, none came. Glenroy let out a relieved breath and turned to them. "Looks clear. Come on, we're almost through to the sewers," he stated, gesturing to them that it was safe to proceed.

"Sewers? Are you serious?" Cania groaned, an involuntary shudder racking her body. Baurus laughed at her response, and even the Emperor smiled sympathetically at her.

"Believe me, I fully understand your sentiment," the Emperor said, an ironic undertone creeping into his voice. "But I'm afraid it's a necessary step." Cania let out another small moan of protest, letting her head drop slightly.

"Today is just _not_ my day," she mumbled, shuffling along a few steps behind the others. All of them shared a hearty laugh at her expense-- until Glenroy tried the door that they intended to escape through.

"Damn it," he shouted, punching the door with a gauntleted hand and whirling around to face the others. "The gate is barred from the other side! A trap!" Weapons were immediately drawn, and they all began to search for any other way out of this new predicament. Cania was beginning to have a sinking feeling about the whole thing. Baurus was the first one to notice an alternate route. With his voice kept stiffly calm, he pointed to another door ahead of them and to their right.

"What about that side entrance?"

Glenroy followed his gesture and took a few steps closer to examine the new exit from afar. He looked at his comrade and offered an armored shrug, readying his Akaviri katana for any impending dangers. "Worth a try," he muttered, taking point once more. "Let's go!" An unspoken consent passed through the party, and they all proceeded into the small room that the grate led to. It was a dead end.

"What do we do now, sir?" Baurus questioned warily, turning to face his comrade. Glenroy shook his head angrily, simultaneously throwing his hands up in frustration.

"I don't know," he bellowed, eyes wide and furious. "I don't see any good options here, do you?" The two men were so involved in staring one another down that they didn't notice the sound of armored footsteps approaching the entrance to their cell-like room. Cania tried to get their attention any way she knew how, short of standing on her head and singing "A Less Rude Song," but to no avail. Finally, she resorted to physically turning Baurus' head toward the invaders, and was satisfied to see his eyebrows shoot straight up in shock. He in turn clapped an armored hand onto Glenroy's shoulder, and they both looked at one another in dismay. Finally, they both nodded to each other, and Glenroy took off after the first wave of the assassins.

Baurus grabbed Cania's arm, whirling her about to face him. "Stay here with the Emperor," he commanded, eyes stern and unrelenting. "Guard him with your life." She could only nod mutely in response, which appeased him for the moment. He followed Glenroy into the fray, and Cania couldn't help but peer helplessly after them. Her blade was drawn, but held loosely to her side as she watched the two men fight off an almost endless throng of the demonic-looking assassins. The fight wasn't going well for them. Suddenly, Glenroy cried out in agony and fell to the ground, blood gushing out of his mouth and choking his last scream as the assassin brought his mace down on the Blade's helmet, crushing it with a sickening crunch.

Cania stared at the scene with utter horror; Baurus was now fighting alone against somewhere around ten of the assailants, and was struggling to keep up with the constant flurry of blows directed at him. She wondered if he had even seen his comrade go down-- however, she didn't have long to ponder that thought, for at that moment the Emperor grabbed her shoulder gently, causing her to squeal in terror and drop her weapon. She turned to face him, completely in shock over the whole situation, and he began to speak to her in firm, rushed tones.

"I can go no further. You alone must stop the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings!" He began to frantically loosen the Amulet from around his neck and forced it into her unwilling hand. She stared at him in confusion as he continued to speak, not able to comprehend most of what was reaching her ears. Her entire mind felt numb to the world around her. "Take the Amulet," he finally commanded, wrapping her fingers around the Amulet of Kings and forcing her hand back toward her body. "Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him," he pleaded, his eyes now growing desperate, "and close shut the jaws of Oblivion!"

The wall behind him began to shift all of a sudden, and Cania's eyes widened with fear and sheer panic as she beheld the shadowy form of a very large assassin emerging from the newly-opened door in the stone. She was frozen in place, unable to say or do anything to get the Emperor out of the way in time-- by the time she had regained her legs, the assassin had grabbed Uriel Septim from behind and had slit his throat with a sharp, black-bladed dagger. For a brief moment, the Emperor's icy-blue eyes opened wide with pain and comprehension; then came the cascade of rich, red blood from the wound as his regal body, shrouded by rich, blue velvet robes and luxurious white fur, fell to the floor in an undignified heap. And right at her feet, those wise, compassionate eyes of Emperor Uriel Septim went dark and glassy as they ceased to see anything but the impartial black void that had risen up to swallow him whole.

The Emperor was dead.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, yes I do! I own nothing, how 'bout you!_

_A/N: Yeeeah, long wait for short chapter, I know. The past couple of weeks have been a bit hectic due to pre-school jitters and having to orchestrate buying enough supplies for a small army with someone who lives about 30-40 miles away. I've also been making a bit of progress on my own personal novel and have gotten several new games, all of which take away from my writing time... But fear not! I shan't abandon this story until it reaches its conclusion, for I have seen great things in its future... We'll just see if I can get it finished before the end of the decade. ;)_

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Chapter 4:

Before she could even fully comprehend what had just happened, the assassin had set his sights on her as his next target and was advancing with the dagger raised. He laughed, a cold, raspy sound, and then shook his masked head almost regretfully. "Stranger, you picked a bad day to take up the cause of the Septims," he growled, lunging at her throat. She took a step backward, and then realized that she had dropped her weapon moments earlier. Cania cursed herself mentally, making a valiant attempt to side-step the assassin's blow, managing to grab his arm so that instead of her hitting her neck, he delivered a glancing blow to her collarbone. Taking the momentary advantage, she began to try to disarm the man, both wrestling for control of the blade that had slain the Emperor. Neither was making much headway with the process, however, until suddenly the man made an odd croaking sound and began to tremble violently. Cania stumbled backward as he suddenly let go of the blade and watched in confusion as his armor vanished, leaving him supported only by the Akaviri katana that was protruding through his abdomen. Once the blade was retracted, his body collapsed to the floor, revealing an exhausted, injured, and bloody Baurus.

She looked at him for a moment, and then flashed a worried glance to the Emperor's corpse. Cania had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to take the news very well at all-- indeed, she had hardly known the man and yet it still hurt her to know that he had been slain. How one of his own men would react to his death was certain to be far worse. He hadn't seemed to have noticed yet, perhaps because one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut from a rather nasty wound that seemed to already be becoming infected. With a sigh, she bowed her head, both in thanks and in apology.

"He's gone," she murmured, her voice very nearly a whisper.

"What?" Baurus turned his head, only to find the Emperor's body lying in a pool of his blood. Cania thought that his eyes were going to pop out of his head, injury and all, as soon as he spotted the corpse; immediately, he rushed to the Emperor's side. "No," he cried out, pounding an angry fist on the stone-covered floor. She could only look on mutely as the soldier attempted to suppress both his anger and grief, his restrained tears causing his entire body to tremble. For a few moments, his ragged breaths echoed through the dark, tomblike chamber-- the only sound to be heard other than the occasional drip-drop of slowly coagulating blood falling into small pools around the other corpses that littered the underground halls. "Talos save us," he murmured finally, closing the Emperor's eyes with a heavy hand. Baurus rose to his feet, his head still bowed, and turned to face her. "We've failed... _I've_ failed," he began, his deep baritone now shaky and uncertain. "The Blades are sworn to protect the Emperor, and now he and all his heirs are dead--" at this, his eyes suddenly widened once more, and he whirled about to face his liege-lord's fallen body once more.

"The Amulet!" His voice echoed throughout the entire subterranean lair as he shouted in sudden panic, dropping to his knees once more to examine the Emperor's corpse. "Where is the Amulet of Kings?" He had turned his head to face her, at once both furious and terrified at the prospect of another great loss. She suddenly remembered herself, opening her hand slightly to reveal the shining golden pendant still unharmed.

"He gave it to me," she muttered, still at a loss to explain the Emperor's faith in her. Baurus blinked, his good eye following the movement of the Amulet as she let it drop to hang from its massive golden chain on two slender fingers. It almost seemed to be glittering even in the darkness of the place, catching the light from a lone torch placed at the small hole in the wall that the assassin had come through just moments ago and sending its brilliant, fiery reflections across the wall, amplified by the enormous red jewel placed in its center and echoed by the six smaller jewels that flanked it. Truly, the Amulet of Kings was a glorious testament to the Septim heritage. The two of them finally ceased to admire the beauty of the Amulet long enough for Baurus to stand once more and eye her appraisingly.

"Strange," he said mostly to himself, crossing his arms over his damaged chest plate. "He... saw something in you. Trusted you," he conceded, closing his tired eyes for a moment and leaning back against the wall. "They say it's the Dragon blood that flows through the veins of every Septim. They see more than lesser men." Cania arched an eyebrow at this. _Dragon blood? I suppose that would imply that the Septim line is presumably tied with Talos somehow... If you believe that kind of thing._ She shrugged, turning her gaze back to the Amulet that still hung cheerfully from her fingertips. With a quick flick of her wrist, she held it in her palm once more to get a better look at it; it still shone brilliantly though she had largely cut it off from its light source, causing her to wonder if the Amulet was even more than it appeared. No matter which way she turned it, the light still burned through the center of the jewel, casting a dim red glow onto her grime- and sweat-covered face. She grinned at her reflection, seeing that the day's toils had taken their toll on her hair in particular; it was stringy and greasy, darkened by days of not having been properly cared for during her time in the prison and perhaps a few days before that-- she wasn't entirely sure what had happened to her before she had awoken in her tiny cell.

She turned the Amulet of Kings over once more in her hand to see a faded inscription carved into the back that was in a language she was unfamiliar with. Cania squinted her eyes at the odd markings, and then raised her head back to look at the battle-worn Blade whom she accompanied. She tilted her head slightly. "So, what exactly is so important about this amulet? It's a fine piece of work, sure, but--"

"The Amulet of Kings is a sacred symbol of the Empire," he responded automatically, without opening his eyes. "Most people think of the Red Dragon Crown, but that's just jewelry." He finally cracked one eye open to look at her directly. "The Amulet has... power," he uttered, pausing a moment for what seemed to be dramatic effect. "Only a true heir of the blood can wear it, they say." His tone had dropped conspiratorially low, and he had leaned in slightly to make his point. Cania's eyes widened slightly at that statement. _So it _is_ enchanted_, she thought, shifting her gaze once more to the shining jewel. However, as she held up the Amulet to her eye, the blood-red crystal refracted the image of the Emperor's corpse lying broken on the floor, and she found herself trembling slightly. His visage, if not ghostly enough in person, seemed even more otherworldly when cast in that crimson hue-- and it caused her breath to catch in her throat and a question to enter her mind.

"Why me?" Her voice was low and ethereal as she returned her eyes to the Blade who still leaned exhaustedly against the blood-smeared walls. "Why did he give it to me, and not to you?" His open eye narrowed slightly in the darkness. With a harsh shove, he pushed himself away from the wall and took a few steps toward her, shrugging his shoulders as he came to a halt before her.

"He must have given it to you for a reason," he half-growled, staring openly at her less-than-awe-inspiring physique. "Didn't he say why?" She blinked at the question, unconsciously tightening her fist around the Amulet protectively. _'You must take the Amulet to Jauffre... Close... Jaws of Oblivion,' _the Emperor's last words flickered through her mind, and she cocked her head slightly to one side.

"I have to take the Amulet to someone named 'Jauffre,'" she stated, shifting her weight uneasily from one foot to the other as Baurus' eye suddenly became much more scrutinizing.

"Jauffre? He said that?" He sounded rather skeptical. She merely nodded in response. His eye narrowed even further, until it seemed to be such a small slit it was a wonder he could see out of it at all. "Why?"

"Supposedly, there's another heir."

"Nothing I ever heard about," he dismissed, finally relaxing somewhat. Then, he seemed to consider her words a little more closely. "But Jauffre would be the one to know. He's the Grandmaster of my Order," here he paused a moment, his thick, dark lips twitching slightly upward in a cynical sort of smirk, "although you may not think so to meet him. He lives quietly as a _monk_ at Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol." She blinked at his response. The Grandmaster of the Blades, most likely an incredibly gifted swordsman, living a quaint life in a priory. The very thought alone would be enough to make anyone chuckle-- she could only imagine the chaos that would be caused should an unfortunate trespasser stumbled into the chapel. She shook her head to clear the image.

"Great. How do I get there, then?"

"Well, first, you need to get out of here, obviously," he drawled, giving her a rather snide look out of his unharmed eye and causing the swollen orb to do a rather awkward half-roll in the confines of its flesh. She frowned at him, and he straightened up a bit and cleared his throat. "Through that door," here he gestured toward the hole in the wall that had opened up when the assassin had entered. "Must be the entrance to the sewers, past the locked gate that we ran into earlier. That's where we were headed. It's a secret way out of the Imperial City-- or, it was supposed to be a secret, anyway," he murmured, his voice sounding somewhat remorseful as he flashed a glance to the Emperor's broken corpse. Suddenly, he began to dig in one of the pouches tied to his belt only to produce a small, rusty key a few somewhat comical moments afterward. With a sigh, he offered the key to her and she took it in her free hand, examining it with a touch of disdain. "You'll need that key for the last door into the sewers," he finished, examining her regretfully.

_Oh, how I _loathe_ sewers_, she hissed mentally, shoving the offending key into her pocket in an attempt to block the unpleasantness of the situation ahead. "Do I really have to slog my way through the _sewers_?" Her plea seemed to amuse the Redguard, for he let out a short, barking laugh at her distress. She scowled at him in an attempt to make him stop, but he merely grinned rather cruelly at her.

"Afraid so," he concluded, with a smile plastered across his face that she would have loved to smack clean off. "There are rats and goblins down there, as per the usual fare, but, from what I've seen of you--" he paused for a moment, considering his own words. Finally, he shrugged to himself and pressed onward. "--I figure that a few rodents won't give you any trouble." Cania let out a dismayed sigh, and finally resolved herself to her journey.

"Alright, after the sewers, then what?" He gave her a rather pointed look.

"You must take the Amulet to Jauffre," he told her patronizingly, patting her on the shoulder with a gauntleted hand. She narrowed her eyes angrily at him, but he merely continued on, resuming his more serious tone. "Take no chances, but proceed to Weynon Priory immediately. Got it?" She crossed her arms over her chest in a huff.

"Yeah, I got it," she snarled, still glaring profusely at the Blade. He laughed.

"Good," he stated simply. Then, for a moment, he considered her very carefully and seemed to come to terms with some mental issue that he had had with her throughout their short trip together. "It would seem that the Emperor's trust was... well-placed." The compliment took her aback, and she stared at him blankly for a moment. For once, she couldn't think of anything to say. After a confused moment, however, a thought popped into her head.

"Wait-- what are you going to do as I traipse around Cyrodiil looking for this Jauffre?" Not the classiest way to recover, she noted silently, but the question continued to nag at the back of her mind. With the Emperor dead and no heir in sight at the moment, there didn't exactly seem to be a very high demand for the attentions of the sole surviving member of the rather unfortunate squadron of Blades. He thought about it for a moment, and then turned his eyes back to the crumpled form of the Emperor. Heaving a great sigh, he returned his still-lopsided gaze to her.

"I'll stay here and guard the Emperor's body and make sure that no one follows you," he murmured, resting a heavy hand on the hilt of his katana. "You'd... better get moving." With that, he handed her a map that he somehow produced from another convenient storage location in his armor and evaluated her for a brief moment before giving her a curt nod. "May Talos be with you."

She returned his nod and unsheathed her blade in preparation for whatever lay before her. However, before she could take more than a few steps, he seemed to recognize the blade and stopped her as she was entering the odd crevice in the wall. "That blade... that's Captain Renault's sword, isn't it?" He asked, wonder filling his voice. "I thought we had lost it for good! Could I take that from you?" She blinked at him before processing the information that he was going to be taking her only form of attack away from her, leaving her virtually defenseless for the trials to come. Baurus seemed to sense this, however, and quickly amended his request. "I wouldn't leave you unprotected, of course... Here, all Blades carry a spare weapon, just in case." As he spoke those last words, he reached for another nearly hidden scabbard on his belt and produced a small steel short sword for her to examine. _Well, better this than nothing_, she thought with a sigh as she traded weapons with the Blade. He smiled like a child in a sweet shop as soon as Renault's blade touched his fingertips. "I'll see that this is given a place of honor in the halls of the Blades," he reassured her, cradling the katana as if it were a sacred artifact. Cania couldn't help but smile at this display, and resigned herself to killing goblins with a sword the length of her forearm.

After that brief exchange, she bade him farewell once more and proceeded down into the depths of the sewers, where she encountered only minor resistance as she moved through the first tunnels. However, upon reaching the tunnel nearest the exit, another enormous rat leaped straight at her face, causing her to emit a rather unbefitting shriek as she stumbled backward with the creature clawing at her relentlessly. Finally, she managed to pry the little monstrosity off of her head, only to find that she was standing at the very edge of the aqueduct and quickly losing her balance due to the struggling rat. There was just enough time to let out a small moan of "Why me?" before she found herself falling head first into a particularly disgusting patch of greenish-brown sewer water.

She re-emerged from the very bottom of the putrid stream shooting a particularly venomous look at the rat that had attacked her, which was now paddling around her rather indignant form quite happily. With a ferocious growl, she stood in the waist-deep sludge and took a few menacing steps toward the rat and hoisted it up by the tail. It began to squeak shrilly in alarm, writhing furiously in an attempt to escape the death grip that she currently had on the unfortunate appendage. She brought it closer so that she could see its beady little black eyes, and then grinned rather sadistically at the now rather panicked rat. "You're going to pay for that, rat," she hissed, grabbing its tail with her other free hand after sheathing her new sword (now unfortunately thick with sewer grime) and then, with a mighty roar, hurled it across the room, watching as it landed with an enormous splash into a deeper recess of the loathsome sewer. It surfaced moments later, turning tail and fleeing with an indignant series of squeaks as soon as it saw her standing menacingly a few yards away. She snorted at its retreating backside. "Coward," she shouted after it, waving an angry fist.

Now absolutely coated with slime, Cania heaved herself back up onto the small walkway that some kind, loving soul had erected in the sewers for such unfortunate occasions. _Sure, "Take the Amulet to Jauffre," they say. "Slog through the sewers, find the heir, close the gaping maw of Oblivion, save the world, blah, blah, blah,"_ she thought maliciously as she began the slow process of attempting to clean some of the repulsive gunk from her already well-worn armor. _What do they take me for? Honestly,_ she muttered mentally as she removed a particularly icky glob of some unidentifiable substance from her hair with a grimace. _I think I would have been better off in my cell._ After a while, she realized that no amount of cleaning would ever get rid of the stench of stale sewer water and that rather vague scent of rotting leather and her armor was not likely to get anywhere near an acceptable level any time in that century, so she decided to simply soldier on, sludge and all.

After a short while, she managed to find the tunnel leading to the exit and all but flew to the shining grate standing what seemed to be mere inches in front of her. At that moment, she could have sworn that she heard an angelic chorus humming along with her pounding footsteps as she neared the sunlight, a maniacal smile crossing stretching from ear to ear as she finally pushed open the seemingly golden gate... only to trip over the small threshold and tumble head over heels into the laughing waters of the lake, much to the amusement of a few unsuspecting Mudcrabs.

_I hate my life._


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Pshh, the entire Elder Scrolls collection lived with me before Bethesda came along, up until one of the scrolls beat me upon my head with its cane. I think I cried for three days straight. Bahaha. (In other words, no, I don't own anything except for Cania and any other characters that I happen to invent along the way. So nyeh.)  
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_A/N: Wow, two, three months? Jeez. Um, sorry about that. College has absorbed more of my life than I thought it would. No fear, though; now that I'm situated, this should start to be updated a little more regularly. Don't expect weekly, though-- I have enough essays to write ;) Massive thanks to those of you who have stuck with me through this, especially those of you who have reviewed. You guys are awesome! Anywhoo, without further ado, let's get on with:_

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**Chapter 5: A New Beginning**

Sputtering and choking on a mouthful of lake water, Cania hauled herself up onto a nearby rock and promptly began to use every curse that she could think of as she pried off the now completely deluged leather from the shoddy prison garments that she still wore underneath. The armor got snagged more than a few times on the rather cumbersome wristbands that were still affixed to her arms, causing our unfortunate heroine to intensify the colorful stream of words flowing from her mouth. Finally, panting, she managed to separate herself from the ancient, drenched leather armor and flopped down onto the rock with a sigh of relief. _Sure, I'm completely defenseless now other than this stupid excuse for a sword, but at least I can move again, right?_

The mudcrabs approached her curiously, clicking and squeaking as they do, and she grabbed a small pebble, hurling it at them angrily. They squealed in surprise, one of them tumbling backwards in its haste to escape. Cania laughed cruelly as it struggled to flip itself over, but the feeling didn't last long. Feeling guilty, she cautiously approached the mudcrab and gently flipped it so that it was right-side-up again. It made an odd gurgling, screeching sound and then indignantly skittered off to follow its companion. Cania sighed. _I'm too bloody soft,_ she scolded herself, returning to her stone perch.

Her muscles ached from the struggle with her armor, and her slowly-healing injury on her back throbbed occasionally as if reminding her of its presence. She began to crack her knuckles and roll her shoulders in an effort to relieve some of the pain, though she only succeeded in making her wound burn in protest from her efforts. With a wince, she stopped the exercise and eased herself into a comfortable position in order to get a better idea of her surroundings.

The sun was just beginning to set over the Imperial City, turning the sky into a glorious curtain of molten copper and amethyst as it framed the enormous tower that stood proudly in the center of the city's wheel. Under its burnished glow, the tranquil lake shone like fire under glass, causing her to sigh with sheer admiration of the beauty before her. _I'd almost forgotten what the sky was like, _she thought as she allowed herself to bask in the glory of the fading sun. Cania could feel her body molding into the rock as she relaxed. For a moment, her mind drifted to a vague memory of a place she wasn't sure she had ever been to, carrying her far away from her uncertain future.

_The fields rippled with tall golden grass, and she could hear the sound of the surf in the distance. Tiny insects were fluttering about in surprise as a little girl rushed through the reeds laughing shrilly, her bronzed arms held high over her head as if she were trying to capture one of the tiny clouds that hovered uncertainly over the endless ocean. She could hear voices yelling after her, but she ignored them, rushing on and dancing in the embrace of the cool sea breeze, raising her voice in an old song her mother had taught her long ago._

_She knew the fields well, for she had often come there to play when she got the chance. Those environs may as well have been her nursery, for every blade of grass was familiar to her, and she innately knew the location of every feature of the land. She darted over small rocks, skirted large mounds of ants, greeted the small, floating insects with a shrill laugh, and dove into the endless sea of gold like a dolphin._

_After awhile, the child began to tire, and she plopped down into the golden terrain with a giggle and a sigh, her brilliant yellow hair almost indistinguishable from the massive blades of grass that now surrounded her. She rested there for a long moment, oblivious to the panic that had now occupied the screaming voices that just barely reached her ears. Her bright green eyes found a tiny blue butterfly crossing over one of the fluffier reeds, and immediately she perked up, setting off to chase her new "friend." Finally, she managed to capture it, smiling triumphantly as she brought it close to her face. Slowly, she opened her hands, only to find the fragile creature shattered, fluttering its wings vainly in hopes of reaching the sky once more before it was seized by its unfortunate fate. She gently prodded the insect with one tiny finger, trying to make it revive once more. Soon, the realization hit her: she had killed it._

_The girl began to cry._

_Suddenly, she found herself hoisted in the air, her neck shooting with pain as a massive hand curled around it. The landscape was engulfed in flames, and the pure blue sky was now turning black with smoke. She struggled, now screaming in terror as another pair of hands grasped her legs, a heavy pair of irons clamped onto them. Her flesh burned beneath the hot irons, and she let out another throaty howl, desperately trying to call for her mother as the rough hands began to strip her down. She painfully twisted her head to see her attackers, but she was unable to see anything more than the black curtain that suddenly descended upon her vision._

_All was dark._

Cania sat bolt upright, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Her entire body shuddered with the distant recollection, and she suddenly felt horrifically cold. She curled up into a tiny ball, her damp prison garments causing her to recoil slightly from their chill. "By the Nine," she murmured, burying her head in her arms, desperately trying to shake the image from her mind. _Did that actually happen?_ She found herself questioning the vision; her childhood had been spent in a land of golden grass and sapphire seas, she remembered that much. But the rest... _It was just a dream! Stop getting yourself so worked up about it!_

However, those words did nothing to calm the echoes of terror that she still felt. Her mind was reeling, and suddenly the peaceful landscape seemed like something out of a nightmare-- the sun had disappeared over the horizon, and the wind had begun to pick up, howling over the lake like a furious specter. Her heart was pounding in her chest, the thudding echoing into her ears with each beat. Despite this constant internal noise, another sound managed to catch her attention and made her eyes go wide: a gentle splashing in the water a short distance off. For a moment, she froze, her aching muscles tensing. She cast a furtive glance over one shoulder, and saw several large ripples extending out from a point in the lake only a few feet away from her. Slowly, she got to her feet and began to walk toward the Imperial City in an attempt to look nonchalant.

She bristled upon hearing the soft dripping of water and padding of feet behind her, and picked up her pace until she was nearly jogging up the side of the steep hill. Finally, she broke into a flat-out sprint as she felt the presence behind her get closer, scrambling up the side of the ridge like a desperate animal, fingernails digging into the soft earth to aid her in her ascent. Upon finally reaching the top, she whipped around to try and get sight of her pursuer, but saw nothing. For a few tense moments, her eyes scanned the shadows for any sign of movement; it seemed that whoever had been following her had given up the chase. She let out a deep sigh of relief, slumping exhaustedly against a young tree. _Today has just _not_ been a good day for me_.

From her vantage point, she felt almost like she could see all of Cyrodiil stretched out before her. The stars were shining brightly in the blue-black skies, only slightly marred by the occasional dark cloud hovering malevolently on the horizon, and the wind had resigned itself to simply toying with her long, dirty blond locks as it passed idly by. _No wonder they picked this spot to build the Imperial City. _She allowed herself a tiny smile as she gazed upon the landscape, relaxing slightly against the sapling. _Oblivion can wait for a little while,_ she told herself, eying one of the distant mountain ranges. _I think I've earned a good rest._ Cania lingered there a few moments, soaking up the landscape with all of her senses. She blinked when she felt the tree shift slightly behind her: the breeze had died. _What the..._ Slowly, she craned her head upward, only to find a reptilian face glowering down at her with almost glowing yellow-orange eyes.

It felt as if everything shattered in that instant, and she found herself taking a few precarious steps back, suddenly realizing that she had run out of ground and was about to fall over the side of the hill. The Argonian's scaly arm shot out as she began to lose equilibrium, and with a remarkable amount of strength it tossed her sideways back onto solid earth. Cania landed flat on her back with a pained grunt, her green eyes wide and terrified as the massive Argonian took a few steps toward her. Now that it was closer, she could see that it was male, for its scales were a dull reddish color with bright patches of green under his eyes. He had to have been at least six-and-a-half feet tall, muscular and almost bulky, with a pattern of scars across the deep bridge of his maw. The Argonian smirked as he neared her, showing off a row of sharp, pointed teeth. She winced when he extended his hand to grab her arm once more, but was surprised to find him hoisting her to her feet, arching a scaly brow at her inquisitively.

His eyes fell upon the prison wristbands that she still wore, and she cursed mentally. "I see you have escaped," he hissed with that satisfied smirk still plastered onto his scarred face, folding his long arms over his bare chest. She noticed that he wore only a pair of black, finely-crafted leather pants, along with a pair of black fingerless gloves over his clawed hands. Cania attempted a weak smile, slowly reaching for the short sword that still hung loosely at her side. The Argonian seemed to notice, and then let out a deep, hearty bark of laughter. "Little one, attacking me would be simply foolish, for you should know that I would be forced to crush you." For some reason, she had a feeling that he was right. _Perhaps it's the fact that he's almost twice as big as I am,_ she muttered to herself whilst sulkily releasing the hilt of her weapon.

"Well, so what if I _have_ escaped?" She asked after a moment, crossing her arms in a similar manner to his. The Argonian's grin widened.

"So what?" He repeated, his deep, growling voice echoing in her ears. She gave him an odd look. There was a long, almost awkward pause. "So what," he then murmured after a moment, his smile faltering. "You don't know who I am, do you?" She shook her head, and the long dorsal ridge on his head bobbed slightly as he let out an almost regretful-sounding sigh. "I see that you--" here he halted uncomfortably, then suddenly straightened himself. "Ah, _my reputation_ does not precede me." Cania tilted her head slightly at the bizarre response. He took a deep, flourished bow, giving her a scrutinizing look from his hunched position. "They call me Visthaalu, little Imperial, and I believe that I have something that may belong to you," he growled, producing a soggy, wrinkled parchment for her inspection. She squinted her eyes in the darkness, struggling to see the slightly-faded and running inks that dotted the page. Upon realizing exactly what it was that she was looking at, her eyes shot wide open.

"That's the map that Baurus-- where did you get that! I could have sworn--" she stopped abruptly, realizing that it had probably gotten stuck in her rotting leather cuirass after she had removed it. She smacked her head with an open palm, and Visthaalu laughed heartily.

"I assume that you recognize it?" He asked cheekily. Cania glared at him, prying the document from his loose grip. "Now why would you be heading to an Abbey, of all places? Reborn zealot, are you?" She rolled her eyes. _Right; kneeling before some statue of a long-forgotten god sounds like a great way to waste a chunk of my life._

"No," she huffed out loud, hugging the document to her chest. "For your information, I'm on a very important quest." This seemed to pique the Argonian's interest.

"Oh, really?" He questioned with a curious glint in his eye. "And what sort of quest would they have entrusted to a fugitive, hm?"

"None of your business, lizard," she nearly shouted, suddenly very defensive. Visthaalu raised his hands in mock surrender, his eyes exaggeratedly wide.

"Forgive me, your highness," he hissed, cocking his head to one side. She narrowed her eyes at him once again, and then decided to just walk away. As she neared the gates, however, she realized that she was being followed yet again. Angrily, she whirled around to face the Argonian.

"Why are you still following me?" Her voice was surprisingly full of authority, causing Visthaalu to come to a halt just behind her. "What do you want from me, a tip? I don't have any gold, so you might as well give up on that," she continued, puffing out her chest.

"Little Imperial, you wound me," he cried, placing one scaly hand dramatically over his heart. "I wish nothing more than to accompany you on your 'very important quest.'" Her green eyes went wide yet again as she stared at him incredulously. "Ah, don't think me so altruistic," he snarled, resuming his normal stance. "Let's say that I do believe that your quest will have... interesting consequences, to say the least. I would like to be involved in that," he continued, that same smirk crossing his reptilian countenance yet again.

"You mean that you want all of the glory and none of the effort, right?"

"Perish the thought," he replied, his smirk growing wider.

"And why would you believe anything I say? I _am_ a fugitive, as you've been so willing to point out," she pursued, putting one hand on her hip defiantly.

"Because I also found this," he hissed quietly, removing his other hand from behind his back.

Cania gasped.

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_A/N mk. II: Couldn't put this up there, t'would have spoiled it for you. I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but Visthaalu's name gave me no end of grief. I spent a good week just attempting to get _ that_ name, and I'm still not 100 percent satisfied with it... Ah, well. C'est la vie, non?_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: You already know I'm not cool enough to own Oblivion or any of its brethren, stop pointing it out._

_A/N: Yeah, I know it's been a reeeeeeally long time since I've updated this... Sorry about that, I've been obsessed with my own original works as of late. Your reviews were the only thing that really kept me writing this, especially since getting the in-game script is such a pain in the hiney to get. Anywhoo, enough of my complaining. I made this chapter longer than most of the other ones just for you... Though I'm not overly happy with it. Lots of in-game dialogue that had to get stuffed in there. But yes. Enjoy, kids._

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Chapter 6:

The Amulet of Kings swayed almost cheerily from the Argonian's outstretched fingers, its blood-red gem reflecting the pale light of the moon and the half-glow of Visthaalu's eyes. Cania made a grab for it, only to be thwarted when he lifted it high above his own head, effectively making it quite out of her range. She snarled, now staring him directly in the face.

"Well," he hissed in return, lowering his head slightly to her level, "do we have an accord? Or must I take on your 'duties' as the little messenger girl?"

"Give it back to me and I might decide to let you tag along," she retorted hotly, her face burning with anger. He grinned cruelly.

"Ah, but you are not in any sort of position to be making demands, now, are you?" She scowled. "Little one, you are challenging the master at his own game," he chuckled, shooting a brief gaze up at the Amulet.

"Alright, alright, you can come along," she muttered, extending a hand to prompt the release of the jewel. "Just--" Without warning, the Amulet dropped with a soft _plink_ into her open palm, and she turned her shocked gaze to the smiling Argonian.

"Very good. Now then, let us have a good rest in one of the many seedy Imperial inns, hm? I do believe that you are in desperate need of a bath," he noted, wrinkling his scarred nose. She gave him a pointed look and turned to walk past two bewildered guards into the Imperial City.

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One night, a few hours and several attempts at intimidation later, Cania emerged from the Imperial City rested, groomed, and wearing a brand-new, _almost_ illegally obtained set of leather armor, Visthaalu following close behind. The two of them were perched upon a bluff that overlooked the whole of the region, Cania examining Baurus' now largely ruined map and Visthaalu scanning the area for any roads that might resemble the blurred ink smears. 

"I think... that's the road to Chorrol," she mumbled, turning the map slightly. Visthaalu shook his head.

"No, I know that road well; it leads to Leyawiin."

"Well, sure, if you take it southward! We're headed... west-ish. And north."

"In that case, we want _that_ road there to the east."

"East? Why would we want to take an eastern road to head northwest?"

And so the argument continued for a brief interlude until Cania finally decided to simply ask one of the Imperial Legion the route to Weynon Priory. He had given them an odd look, but had finally made good on the request. They were on the right track. _Unfortunately, that track is ridiculously long and full of bandits, wolves, and bugs. How I _loathe_ the bugs._

Eventually, after several rather unpleasant encounters with some hard-headed bandits, the two companions managed to find their way into the lawns of the Priory. Cania dropped to her knees at the sight of the surprisingly large building, and then let out a joyous whoop and ran up to a Dark Elf that was strolling by. She nearly tackled him with her enthusiasm, and he seemed quite taken aback as the bouncing Imperial bombarded him with questions about the monks within. Visthaalu let out a tired sniffle of laughter as he watched the sight from his seat on the pole fence that ran along the outskirts of the construction.

"This is Weynon Priory, isn't it? We've finally found it? Oh, thank whatever Gods might be out there right now! I'm so happy I could… well, we won't go into that," Cania babbled, suddenly grabbing the poor Dunmer by the shoulders and shaking him slightly. "Do you know what this means?" The elf shook his head, his red eyes wide with fear. "It means I can finally get rid of this bloody Amulet and have someone else worry about the impending apocalypse," she shouted, laughing wildly as she darted in through the main door of the Priory with an ecstatic whoop of joy. Visthaalu eased himself off of the fence and sauntered over to the Dunmer stable-hand who was still trying to catch his breath from the sudden assault.

"I apologize for my friend's behavior," he hissed coolly, "we've merely had a long and rather trying day." The shocked Dark Elf nodded slightly, cowering in the shadow of the massive Argonian. With that, Visthaalu slowly followed Cania in through the doors of the Priory, where he saw Cania speaking to an aged monk dressed in long black robes. She had plopped herself into a small, wooden chair and was demanding to see someone named Jauffre, her eyes still bright with excitement. The monk shook his head.

"I'm sorry, my child, but Jauffre is asleep upstairs. You will not be able to speak with him until tomorrow." At those words, Cania's heart fell.

"What? No, you don't understand, Prior! I really, _really_ need to talk to him! See, look, I have to give him this!" She pulled out the Amulet of Kings and showed it to the Prior, her face now taking on an impatient cast. The Prior's eyes went wide.

"Where did you get that?"

"Look, that's information that I need to give _to Jauffre_. You don't factor into this."

"Well, I had better begin to 'factor in,' young lady, for you are remaining right here until you tell me what in the name of Oblivion is going on!"

"No," she snarled, suddenly rising from the chair. "_You_ are going to go upstairs, wake up Jauffre, and tell him that he needs to speak with me." Her voice had changed, becoming cold and menacing. "I have traveled too far and fought through too much to deal with this right now. Now, do as I've asked."

"Or what?" The Prior questioned, shocked and indignant. Cania glowered at him and began to open her mouth, when suddenly Visthaalu interposed himself between the two of them. She glared angrily at the interruption.

"Pay her no mind, Prior," Visthaalu murmured, gently pressing Cania back into her seat. "We have both had a difficult journey today. Perhaps we could rest here and then speak with this Jauffre in the morning?" The Prior seemed to consider his words, pressing a gnarled hand to his lips as his dark grey eyes examined the girl fuming behind the frame of the Argonian. Visthaalu paused for a moment, then adjusted his stance slightly. "Unless, of course, you wish us to do something that we would all regret," his voice lowered to a growl at the last word, and his eyes narrowed expectantly at the elderly man before him.

"Very well," the Prior began, throwing his hands up slightly in defeat. "You will rest here tonight, but by the Nine, you _will_ explain yourselves to Jauffre and I come morning."

"We wish nothing more," Visthaalu replied, a smirk creeping across his scarred face. "Come, little Imperial. Rest would be a welcome remedy for your moodiness, I think." Cania rolled her eyes and sighed, lifting herself heavily from the chair and shoving the Amulet back into her pack like a petulant child.

"Fine. But we finish this tomorrow," she grumbled, following the Abbot up to their rooms.

"Of course," Visthaalu patronized.

Cania was curled up on her rather uncomfortable cot in the tiny guestroom, scowling at the wall opposite her. She could hear Visthaalu shifting on his bed and the sound of his slow, even breathing to her right. "You made quite the fool of yourself, little one," he murmured, attempting to keep his deep, hissing voice quiet. "These monks cannot be won over with such threats. Those are better reserved for the Legion and the bandits that would hinder us on the road. Or merchants." She rolled her eyes.

"Just shut up and go to sleep," she growled, slamming her pillow over her head. Both of them lay silent for a few moments, listening to the mournful wailing of the wind outside their lone window. Visthaalu readjusted himself again. _He is _seriously_ too calm right now._ _We're about to get shoved into something that neither of us is ready to take on unless I can talk this 'Jauffre' guy into letting someone else handle this._

"Have you ever noticed that the birds always sing most beautifully right before the rain?"

"What?"

"Listen." She did, but heard nothing.

"Don't tell me you're already going insane."

"Shh," he commanded quietly. With a frustrated sigh, she focused all of her concentration on listening for something—anything, really. Finally, she heard it: the sprightly chirping of some night bird or other. Another joined it, and then another, until the night was alive with the song of those birds. It went on like that for quite a while, until suddenly she began to hear the gentle patter of rain against the window. The song became louder as the rain grew stronger, until it seemed almost as if the rain was an accompaniment to the melody of the birds. Finally, the birds' requiem fell away, leaving only the hard, driving rhythm of the cold rain against the window.

"Sometimes I wonder whether they rejoice at the rain's arrival, or if they try to persuade it to stop," Visthaalu murmured after a time. "In any case, they seem to accept it in the end."

"Wait a minute. How did you know it was going to rain?" He laughed.

"Call it an Argonian's intuition. We know the water."

"If you say so." Again, they were silent for a time, both listening to the insistent pounding of the rain on the priory roof. For some reason, she felt much calmer now. The rain was soothing, in a way—there was something constant and reassuring about it. She shrugged off the feeling, somewhat disturbed by it. She felt herself drifting off to sleep, but lingered a moment before she finally found herself snoring contentedly in the tiny room.

"I wonder how you will sing when the storm finally begins," Visthaalu murmured to the sleeping Cania, his expression softened slightly. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he allowed himself to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning found the two of them sitting in front of a small table, awaiting the arrival of Jauffre. Cania was in a much-improved mood, and cradled the Amulet in both hands as she began to think of what to say to the monk. Finally, a rather old man strode into the room, his posture stiff and rigid as if he were performing some sort of military ritual. He stood before them for a long moment, scrutinizing them with a stern eye, picking out every individual flaw and wrinkle on their persons. Finally, seemingly satisfied, he lowered himself slowly into a chair across the table from them, wincing slightly as his back protested. Cania quirked an eyebrow at the old man as he glared at them silently for a long moment, letting his gnarled fingers twine together in thought.

"Uh... Are you... Brother Jauffre?" Cania asked hesitantly, glancing at her large Argonian companion. Visthaalu shrugged slightly, rolling his eyes in annoyance as the man in question remained silent another long moment. Finally, the monk leaned back in his chair and spoke, his voice hollow yet surprisingly crisp for a man of his age.

"I am Brother Jauffre... What do you want?"

"Well... It's not what _I_ want per se... The Emperor sent me to find you," Cania replied, relaxing slightly at the fact that she'd finally found the man. Unfortunately, Jauffre did not seem so pleased to hear her words, his thin eyebrows coming together sharply and his cold grey eyes narrowing.

"Emperor Uriel? Do you know something about his death?"

"Well, yeah... I was kinda there when he died." The old man scowled at this, leaning forward again almost threateningly and pointing a long finger at her.

"You had better explain yourself. Now," he demanded, looking for all the world as if he were going to either have her executed on the spot or arrested by the Imperial Legion. Cania blinked, and then remembered the Amulet of Kings safe in her palms and she quickly stuttered out the words, "He gave me the Amulet of Kings!" Jauffre scoffed, rolling his eyes at the young Imperial. "You brought me the Amulet of Kings? This cannot be. Let me see it."

Slowly, Cania lifted the glittering Amulet and set it gingerly on the table, pushing it forward and offering it to Jauffre, whose eyes were now wide with shock and disbelief. "By the Nine," he murmured, his voice awed, "this _is _the Amulet of Kings." Finally, he lifted his eyes back to Cania, a curious frown crossing his face. "Who are you? How did you get this? What do you know of the Emperor's death?"

Cania sighed, slumping back in her chair slightly. "It's a loooong story."

(time elapse of wonders... go back and read the previous five chapters if you really wanna know)

* * *

Jauffre sat silent for a long moment after Cania finished telling her tale, Visthaalu interjecting every so often when he felt it was necessary, trying to soak everything in. Cania shifted nervously in her seat as he stared at the Amulet, wondering if she would finally be free of this undesired responsibility and praying to any gods that might have been out there that she would. Finally, Jauffre let out a tired sigh and rubbed his forehead before looking at her again. "As unlikely as your tale sounds," he began slowly, his eyes softening a little bit, "I believe you." Cania let out a relieved sigh and relaxed back into her chair at this. "Only the strange destiny of Uriel Septim could have brought you to me carrying the Amulet of Kings," he finished with a bitter chuckle. 

Cania looked him over for a second, and then curiosity took over. "What did he mean, 'close shut the jaws of Oblivion...?'" Jauffre frowned slightly and folded his arms over his chest with a slight shrug.

"His meaning is unclear to me as well. The Emperor seemed to perceive some threat from the demonic world of Oblivion. The Prince of Destruction, Mehrunes Dagon, whom he also mentioned, is one of the Lords of Oblivion," he explained quietly, almost as if trying to make himself understand as well, and then his frown deepened as he realized something else. "But the mortal world is protected from the daedra of Oblivion by magical barriers." Cania blinked, looking over at Visthaalu, who looked just as puzzled as she did.

"So... how can Oblivion threaten us, then?" Jauffre shook his head slowly.

"I'm not sure. Only the Emperors truly understand the meaning behind the rituals of coronation. The Amulet of Kings is ancient. Saint Alessia herself received it from the gods. It is a holy relic of great power. When an Emperor is crowned, he uses the Amulet of Kings to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. With the Emperor dead and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple will be dark for the first time in centuries," he explained patiently once more, his gnarled fingers drumming on the wooden table as he pondered his own words. "It may be that the Dragonfires protected us from a threat that only the Emperor was aware of," he finished quietly. Cania sighed, rubbing the back of her neck and deciding to just get to the point.

"Well... The Emperor asked me to find his son."

Jauffre blinked and looked up at her. "His son?" He hesitated a moment and then nodded to himself. "Yes... I am one of the few that know of his existence. Many years ago, I served as Captain of Uriel's bodyguards, the Blades. One night, Uriel called me into his private chambers. A baby boy lay sleeping in a basket. Uriel told me to deliver him somewhere safe." Jauffre sighed and leaned back in his seat, turning his head slightly to glance out the window toward the southwest. "He never told me anything else about the baby, but I know that it was his son. From time to time he would ask about the child's progress. Now, it seems this illegitimate son is the heir to the Septim Throne," he concluded with a nod, and then frowned as he looked back toward Cania. "If he yet lives."

Cania sighed. She never asked for three hours of back story, she just wanted to get things over and done with so she could get on with her own life doing... well, whatever it was she'd been doing before she got imprisoned. "Look, just tell me where I can find Uriel's son so I can finish this." Jauffre gave her a look of reprimand, but said nothing to the effect.

"His name is Martin. He serves Akatosh in the chapel of Kvatch, south of here. You must go to Kvatch and find him at once. If the enemy is aware of his existence, as seems likely, he is in terrible danger." Cania quirked an eyebrow at this and looked at Visthaalu.

"Terrible danger? I didn't sign up for terrible danger. I was just planning on passing the message along and washing my hands of this business for good." Visthaalu shrugged slightly, then looked at Jauffre.

"Do not listen to her... She is a valiant woman in coward's attire."

"Hey!"

Jauffre smirked. "I'm sure... Oh, and if there's anything you need, please let me know. My resources here are limited, but I will help you in any way I can." Cania folded her arms over her chest huffily and didn't respond, glaring at both old man and Argonian alike. Jauffre grew stern again at this and stood. "Waste no time. You must find Martin before the enemy does."

Cania finally got to her feet, grumbling under her breath in annoyance as she reached for the Amulet of Kings once more, only to get her hand smacked away smartly by Jauffre. "What gives, old man?"

"The Amulet of Kings will be safer here with me."

"...Fine." She nodded to Visthaalu as she walked back down the stairs, gesturing for him to follow. "Lovely mess you've gotten us into, scar-face." Visthaalu chuckled.

"Ah, but certain death brings a level of excitement to our otherwise boring lives, does it not?"

"Just shut up," she growled, finally making it to the door of the Priory only to get stopped by Prior Maborel yet again. "What now?" The Prior blinked at her snippy tone and shifted slightly under her glare.

"I was just going to offer you my horse... I have no need of it, and I imagine it would serve you well in your journey. It's the paint out back in the stables."

Cania quirked an eyebrow at him. "Uh... thanks, I guess."

"Of course," he replied with a small, devious smirk before heading back over to his chair and sitting down once again. Cania sighed and finally stepped outside into the cheery sunlight and a nice swarm of tiny gnats hovering around the open well in front of the Priory.

"...I hate bugs so very much," she sighed, coughing as a few of the gnats invaded her mouth when she spoke. Visthaalu laughed and shook his head.

"So... Are you going to take the Prior's kind offer of a steed?" Cania wrinkled her nose slightly, spitting out the remains of the tiny bugs as she finally turned and walked over toward the stables, blinking as the Dunmer stablehand who was guiding a small herd of sheep suddenly turned and ran the opposite direction.

"...What's up with him?"

"I think you may have frightened him."

"Oh. Right," she sighed, then turned her eyes to the large, old paint horse giving her an irritated look from over the stable railings. She took a deep breath and slowly approached the already saddled beast, murmuring quiet, soothing words to it as she slowly worked her way into the saddle and then directing it out of the stable and onto the road. Visthaalu chuckled as he watched her holding onto the horse's neck for dear life, only one eye open as she glanced nervously around the terrain. Suddenly, one of the sheep brushed against the horse and spooked it, causing it to rear up with a loud whinny and charge off in the direction of Kvatch at its rather pathetic full speed, Cania letting out a horrified shriek of terror as Visthaalu laughed and ran behind with ease.

"_I hate horses!!!_"


End file.
